


The Early Medic Days

by SemiramisAudron



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dork grows up to become a respectable member of society, Elves, Fantasy, Fiction, High Elves, Introductions & Chapters, Life's no picnic, Literature, Mages, Pen & Paper, Quests, chubby High elf, prose
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 13:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11898270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SemiramisAudron/pseuds/SemiramisAudron
Summary: Chubby cinnamon roll highelf is a dork and almost dies several times in his questing attempts to become a respectable member of society.There's dragons too.An original work based on a Pen & Paper campaign happening in a world created entirely by the DM.The Backstory of an important and well respected NPC, told by him, in his diary.





	The Early Medic Days

**Author's Note:**

> For easier understanding ( _please hover_ ):
> 
> **Paphyran** , **The Great PatPat in The Sky** , **Mages**
> 
> Additional Info:  
> [ Willowwood Calendar ](https://semiramis-audron.deviantart.com/art/Willowwood-Calendar-with-Dates-172573702)  
> [ Basic overview of the most common races ](https://semiramis-audron.deviantart.com/art/Humanoid-Races-Comparison-165769346)  
> 

#  **The Early Medic Days - Introduction **

  


_Nobody understands what it is like to be a Mage._  
Usually when someone states a sentence structured like this, another one follows going by:  
_You have to be a Mage to understand it._  
In this case however... I feel myself unable to continue as aforementioned.  
Not even a Mage understands what it is like to be a Mage... or rather is able to put it into words that would make it understandable for any Not-Mage.  
When they become Ex-Mages, they might be able to do so theoretically, yet... practically... They do not know what it was like to be a Mage.

Being a Mage is a very strange and peculiar state of mind and physics. It is said that they see more than any other being can see with their eyes. Some believe they see with their heart, some believe they see the pure life and energy existing in every being. It might actually be something along the lines of that.  
We already came to the conclusion that it is impossible to put it into words least of all sum it up into one sentence.  
The Great PatPat in The Sky might be able to, but neither you, nor me, nor Mages can...  
But I shall try my best to at least converge to an explanation by giving examples and explanations thereof.  
Why are Mages unable to understand what it is like to be a Mage?  
For one, of course them telling a Not-Mage about this would require the Mage to empathize with that person. Something a Mage is to an extent capable of... But explaining their own existence from a different point of view is something that could likely break the Mage from what I have experienced.  
On the other hand they do not fully comprehend that they are different from other beings. For a Mage there is no diversity of races, they live... no, they think true equality... perhaps because of their different way of seeing life and every living being. As I mentioned before, they do have a form of Sixth Sense that coincides with their 'sense of sight'.  
The only form of existence that has a grasp, yet verbally inexpressible, of what it is like to be a Mage... is an Ex-Mage...  
Though one that has not been befallen by insanity, or death for that matter.  
I have been actively practicing as a Mage for more than 100 years. That is more than your average human's lifespan... and not even I can give you a precise description of how a Mage's mind works.

It is difficult to interview a Mage or Ex-Mage on this topic, or any other being aware of the matter. Hence there is a lack of factual evidence and quotations to substantiate my allegations.  
I can only describe my experiences which may vary from other Mage's and Ex-Mage's.  
It is my point of view, which, as I tried to explain before, is what my former vocation was about.  
I hope you forgive me should you in your life come across People and Occurrences that prove my assumptions wrong.  
And now I as well hope, you will forgive me for this ~~awfully long~~ introduction.

It's true what they say. You cannot be a Mage, you have to be born as one.  
Mages possess a naivety that rivals an infant's amount of it. Hence it is not surprising that almost every newborn is a potential Mage ... or let me paraphrase that... every conceived child is a potential Mage.  
We do in fact have a connection to the outer world already in our mother's womb and this small connection is often enough to destroy the magic.  
We hear and feel.  
That is enough to receive 'bad vibes' which will break the magic in the baby's frail mind.  
When they are born, about 70 percent of all babies still are potential Mages.  
Do not nail me down on this, it is again just what I have experienced as a Mage who is also midwife if necessary.   
If they are born into an environment that is not perceptive enough or does not care enough to be perceptive they will lose their magic in between a week and 3 month... Or if the parents do notice but simply **do not want** their child to be a Mage.  However a Mage would not even have thought of that option so forgive me setting it in belated, force of habit...

But let us return to the topic.  
It is not very difficult to realise your child is a Mage. You have a chubby, rosy-cheeked, happy and healthy little bundle there... even though you forgot to feed it since about 4 days...  
Ahem, I myself have been described once as a ~~pudgy,~~ somewhat cute, lump of rosy meat... As such my parents did not see a necessity in feeding me until my grandmother, who is a Mage herself advised them to do so and pointed out my predisposition.  
Mage babies do not eat a lot, they do not scream through the night, they are incredibly well behaved and they almost never need a change of diapers.  
Do not get me wrong, it is not as if they would consciously do that. Their magical unconsciousness just prevents their parents from any further trouble. They make their life as comfortable as possible. They make them happy. Wouldn't you be happy if you had a cute and low-maintenance baby? You would, until you realise that it will ~~never have a will of its own,~~ never really have an own opinion, will forever keep its childlike naivety and... which was probably the worst for my parents... will ALWAYS put the well-being of others before its own. My parents are  Sídhe , my kind has the second lowest rate of Mages in the whole world, dragons have the lowest.

At this point, you either decide to forcefully break your child's mind and raise it as a normal being, an option only advised when the child is still very small. Or you settle with letting it be educated and trained to become a Mage...  
My potential was incredibly high so my parents went for the later...  
I attended the Sídhe school of Laes, something between kindergarten and primary school. I learned the very basics of writing my mother tongue and mathematics... Then I was transferred to a Mage boarding school. We never saw our parents. We were Mages, there was no such thing as homesickness or loneliness. We were simply happy. I stayed there until I was 21. We were told about the Great PatPat in the Sky, the creator God of this world and the God that supplied us with magic... of course we were not told that exactly. We were told the Mage-version which included much more happiness and fewer details.  
I learned the Basics of Healing there, the Values of Life and Magic, was handed my first Mage-Staff and trained in defending others before myself and of course I was taught Universal... The language that every Mage speaks and everyone else appears to do as long as you are a Mage. As a consequence I neglected my own language, something I deeply regret today but at that time found unnecessary because: Everyone speaks Universal, that is a positive information. Not everyone speaks Sídhe, was a negative information so it was blocked from my head and I adopted Universal.

When I was 21 I was sent to the great Mage University in Willowwood.  
I was the best in my year in Staff-fight. I know that today, having insight into my files, back then we did not know anyone was better or not as good as another. I still somewhat fail in the Offence but I can protect the living daylight out of you.  
We learned nothing about anatomy or the different races. Everybody is equal, we heal everybody. That was our credo. We healed things that we had not the slightest grasp of how they work. There are bones in an arm, really? It hurts, I will heal it... the bone might still be broken but the arm doesn't hurt anymore and eerily enough it DOES work again... That is why it is called magic.  
We were only taught about Flora and Fauna and Anatomy if we requested so... Few did, those who did, including me, were glanced at slightly suspiciously... It appears to me so today, though we did not notice that of course back then...  
Mages do not doubt, they do not question, they do not need to know how things work to fix them... and they are a highly valuable, mhm... resource. That is why those, that wanted to know more were taught in private. No classes. One reason was of course that the teacher's attention was solely focused on the single individual which increased the quality of learning. But thinking back I cannot lose the feeling that they also kept us apart so we would not be of danger for each other by asking too many questions and doubting too many things.  
I was an eager student, always willing to improve my knowledge. Always watched closely by the authorities, a fact that I only realise now that I am not a Mage anymore. I suppose with my Sídhe-typical congenital arrogance and selfishness, they suspected me to break at any time. Even though as a Mage I NEVER showed any sign of my heritage. You can guess that the authorities in charge of us were no Mages, but skilled and especially trained to deal with the special care Mages require.  
They liked me like they liked everyone else, they were my friends, always around me so I could protect them and they could protect me. Today I think they were always with me because I asked too many questions, naive ones, nonetheless questions.  
Yet something in my head told me that I will be able to help people more satisfactory if I know what their usual state would be.  
I can assure you my assumption was proven true more than once. Now that I can experience pride I am proud to know that I used to be one of the greatest Mages of my time when it came to healing.  
But healing was not all we were trained in, it was merely my specialisation. We all specialized on a certain aspect of our education. Some became Poison-curers, some became Teleporters and Magical Crafters. We were all taught the basics of such and then chose the subject we were 'best' suited for. The act of using magic is a very tiresome, our physical and psychological limitations were the reason why none of us will ever be able to become a 'universal-Mage'.

My active career as a Mage started in my 125th year of life. I became a Travelling Mage. Do not confuse this vocation with a Travelling Medic. The later travels indeed alone. A Travelling Mage is one that has a strong bound to the Great PatPat in the Sky, their constitution is stronger and the influence of the Real World not as much of a threat to their naivety. That might be either because their naivety is TRULY imperturbable, those are rare but will likely never break. Or because, as in my case, they tend to have a slight grasp of the non-Mage reality at times which enables them to relativise everything onto a level that does not affect them negatively.  
If a group of adventurers is entrusted with a quest that might harm their physical form, they are advised to take a Mage with them. In return they are obliged to care for the Mage's psychological well-being. Yes, nowadays few know but there are Terms of Service that you are supposed to acknowledge and stick to if a Mage is at your side. One of them is keeping slaughters to a minimum for example. Their responsibility is to make sure he or she is not confronted with too much gruesome reality. The Breaking of your Mage is to be avoided.  
But well, this is a Travelling Mage, literally a Mage who travels with them, supplies them with encouragement, nourishment, protection, healing and whatever they might be in need of.  
That was me. For One hundred and four years.

I admit to myself that I had subtle doubts about the world since I was 213 already but they were never of a nature grave enough to disable or even slightly affect my abilities. But in the last years I have been given to groups that were, how to put it, ~~inconsiderate fuckwits~~ less thoughtful about the Mage accompanying them. I cannot recall how many people and creatures I have seen dieing in my life. I did not fathom their unnatural death as a Mage. We seem to suffer severe  acatalepsy  when it comes to such occurrences. But recollecting how many died in average per quest, I suppose it must have been hundreds...

I was 229 years old and in a horrible group when my mind finally caved in to the harsh reality rushing in on me.  
My doubts had grown at that time and my subconscious magic did not soothe the enemy as it had used to do. They attacked my protégés out of an ambush, wounded and killed most of them with fierce and manic looks on their faces. Looks that I had seen before but never before realised their meanings. Now I did and another feeling surged up that I never before had felt, a feeling that left me petrified and unable to protect my charge when the bandit plunged his sword into the adventurer's heart.  
I experienced fear. Fear for my own life. My head was in a mist that moment. Only the mist had always been there and now that it dispersed my mind was unable to adjust to the clear view. My fingers were cold and numb when I tried to wrap them around my staff as the leader approached me with a knowing, gloating grin. You DO know how a Mage looks that just broke, you do not want to know it, but you will know it the moment you see it.  
It was only thanks to my trained reflexes that my body managed to wield the staff and knock out the bandit leader so the meagre rest of the group was able to finish them off... Suddenly the air was heavy with the scent of iron, the earth at my feet was soaked in blood. My clothes, the swords, the people even my staff was blood stained. Why there was blood on my staff I did not know. I had protected, but had I ever hurt someone? Of course I have, but as a Mage you do not realise these things. You simply do not see the wounds you tear, do not smell the blood, do not feel the cold, the hunger, the exhaustion and the fear.  
I did and I did not move anymore. I suppose my eyes were blank.  
I was lucky I had been able to make that one last staff move. Other groups would have been less grateful and killed their Mage if it broke. A broken Mage was if all dangerous and not useful.  
Contrary to common believe mages do not break in an explosion-like burst of magic, killing anything in a radius of several miles. That doesn't happen... often.

I woke up to the horrible pain of a Medic ramming a dagger into my left hand, to that and the severe urge to slap that bastard silly. I screamed in pain and cursed in a language I had long forgotten. The urge for retribution was replaced by confusion as the faces of the people around me showed relieve. The Medic spoke calming words as he bandaged my hand. Apparently I had not been in shock but in a catatonic state. One that few broken Mages wake up from. I had been lucky.  
My proud heritage obviously refused to let me die from losing something that had turned me into an altruistic philanthropist.  
They calmly explained to me what had happened and that I was not a Mage anymore.  
I comprehended. An unmistakable sign even for me that I in fact was an Ex-Mage now...  
An endangered species.  
Mages that break will break completely. Most do not survive their first encounter with Reality, their body does not know pain or disease, their mind is too noble, too good, too naive... too weak perhaps to take it. They are befallen by insanity, illness and death. In that order.  
If a Mage recovers from his break down, something is 'wrong' with their minds.  Usually a pure being should not adopt to the cruelty and harshness of Reality so easily... unless there was something evil in their minds already.  
There you have the reason why some broken Mages get executed on the spot they broke on. Either to spare them their cruel fate and slow death, or to erase their wickedness from the face of earth. There are rumours that in some territories Ex-Mages are actually hunted down. ~~Though I hardly believe this!~~  
It may sound illogic to you. It may seem that a broken Mage, that has evil in his heart is not a threat because he broke and has no magic abilities anymore.  
But there are rumours and myths. It is unlikely they are true but NOBODY wants to risk it.  
Of course not all Mages are killed or die. Some recover, so did I.

I spent one and a half year in a refuge for Ex-Mages, recovering from the shock and the physical changes that came with it. You remember what I told you about Mage babies not needing to be fed? This never changes. A Mage does not feel hunger because his magic constantly supplies his body with energy of some sort. Sometimes they have to eat but it goes on barely unnoticed. Same applies to personal hygiene, social intercourse and some other parts of a normal life that, up to this point, had been solved more or less by subconscious magic.  
I had to learn that my body needed to be bathed, to use the restroom, to eat in regular intervals and what and how much.  
I prefer casting the blame for me gaining ~~quite some~~   a bit of weight on that fact rather than on being somewhat low-spirited and tending to treat my grief with... well... eatables...  
Apart from that, I did not know what to do with my life from now on, I did not know where to go to... Everything I had done and learned in my life was useless now. The first weeks were the worst. I was there with other Ex-Mages, not all coping as well as I did. I saw some of them die. I saw some taking their own life or going insane. I did not want to end like this. They advised me to write down my story to busy myself with something.  
But I did not want to come to terms with my past yet, I did not feel strong enough.  
So I started to read.  
I remembered where I came from and that I had spoken another language before I had attended the Mage School. I attempted to learn my own language again. But with no one to practise it, I had to give up on this fairly fast. Yet there were other things I was able to work on. I still wanted to help people, I was no Mage anymore but there were others doing the same things, even without magic. It was fortunate that we were overlooked by Medics. They helped me refresh my knowledge of anatomy. I was allowed to go to the library of the Mage university. It was always painful to be around Mages, I missed being happy and carefree but I was also to an extend disgusted by their naivety and ignorance. Had I really been such a fool?  
I buried myself in books about the animals and plants of this world. Kept myself occupied with knowledge of first aid and Medicine, talked for days with our Medics and still was desperate.  
There was no use for me in staying in the refuge.

Finally I decided to go to the only place where I would not constantly have to think about my lost life as a Mage. The only place where I would not be confronted with happy, stupid worshippers of the great PatPat...

 _ **Sídhe**_  
The land of my birth.  
The first words of elven tongue in my ears gave me a warm, peaceful sensation in my body that I had not felt since two years. I knew I was home and with my kind. This was the proper place for me to stay at and think my life over. And also to learn how to behave in a thinking, concious society. No one was friendly to me and I was thankful for it. Too long had my magic warped people's minds. Now finally I would be able to start anew.  
I knew I wanted to become a Medic, but first I had to become a human, or rather Sídhe being with its own will and opinion.  A task at which I blunder still now from time to time.  
My parents did not exactly welcome me with open arms but they were happy I survived and returned with a clear mind. I was not an Ex-Mage, here I was a Sídhe again, even though I barely understood my own people's language.  
My father taught me how to use a sword, he gave it to me, the one that his father had given him, the one that I would give to my son, hopefully, one day.  
Hadhafang, I really like that sword, I can not use it properly yet but I have just started training.  
He also ~~taught me~~ attempted to teach me how to use a bow. Attempted... It made me sad and deeply ashamed to see him so bitterly disappointed with his Ex-Mage son.  
My mother taught me how to cook for myself once I would leave for the big world. She knew so well I would not stay. She is such a wonderful woman.

And she was right. Here I am now, 240 years old and taking the advice I was given ten years ago. I am writing down my life while resting on the way to the next town. They say, from thereon I can leave Sídhe into 3 directions leading to bigger towns in which I will find Guildhouses of the Travelling Medics. I will approach them for a position as a Novice. I write this down with a smile on my face. My heart is light and I look forward into a new life.  
I am Nestaron Ciryatan, I am an Ex-Mage and soon I will be a Travelling Medic!

> End of Introduction Log


End file.
